To say music was “my life” was an understatement.
From dawn to dusk I sang the songs my heart wrote.
When I lost my voice, my fingers became one with the keyboard.
My brother dismantled my keyboard; the guts were strewn like a dissonant message from my room to the instrument.
“You killed the song in my head,” I screamed in the key of C.
I was cut on a metal shard, bloodied notes fell to the floor.
I refused to let him take credit for the score written in red that day.
That score became a famous Dark Mass.
Today’s dismantled keyboard is the prompt for Friday Fictioneers. Wishing Rochelle a Happy 1 year celebration as the conductor of the Friday Fictioneers
penned in moon dust 